


Teach Me A Lesson

by captainbrig



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Handcuffs, Joanlock - Freeform, SMUTTY SMUT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 23:39:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6587845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainbrig/pseuds/captainbrig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joan really needs to work on her ability to escape handcuffs, and Sherlock has found the perfect solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teach Me A Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> My first Elementary fic! So I ship Joanlock, big deal. (it's much, much better than Joancroft anyway.) Anyway, I hope you like it and drop me a review if you have the time!

"Tell me again, why I'm doing this?" she sighs, shifting slightly as he closes the cuffs around her wrists.

"Watson, it is important for you to be able to escape restraints under even the most dire of circumstances. Now, shall we begin?" he replies, kneeling in front of her.

"You know, I'm beginning to think this is more for your benefit than mine," she says as she looks down at him.

Sherlock scoffs at her. "I believe this is where people use the idiom 'to kill two birds with one stone'. You need to train your skills of escaping handcuffs, and well, I have wondered about this particular scenario before," he tells her, a small smirk growing on his face.

Joan rolls her eyes, looking down her naked body at him. "I feel like there are probably better ways to learn this," she replies doubtfully, biting her lip when he skims his thumb against her hipbone and listening to him huff.

"There is no greater distraction than a sexual one. If I am being honest here, I believe your discontentment with the current situation is born out of the fact that you feel uncomfortable being the one restrained," he says instead.

Joan says nothing, but looks away uncomfortably. "I shall take your silence as confirmation, then." He straightens from where he's been sitting back on his calves and takes her face in his hands. Wide brown eyes fix on his own, and he can more than detect the hint of fear that swims in their depths. "Joan," he says softly, "you know I won't hurt you."

She nods slightly, turning her face into his palm as he strokes her cheek comfortingly. "I know."

He wraps his arms around the small of her back, burying his face in her neck. He kisses the soft skin there, and feels how she drops her chin so that their cheeks rubbed.

"Alright now?" he asks her, smiling as she nods. "Right then, let's get started, shall we?"

He hears her push the paperclip in her fingers through the keyhole of the cuffs, and he grins as he captures her mouth in a kiss. She sighs and slumps forward into his kiss slightly, but the faint jiggling of the paperclip didn't stop. Sherlock smiled against her lips, dipping down to nip at her neck and collarbones. Slowly, he started kissing his way down her body, pausing to suck at a pert nipple. Joan sucks in a breath noisily, and Sherlock feels her back arch slightly in a desperate plea for more. One hand slips up and cups her other breast, squeezing and pinching at it. He smirks when he hears a soft whimper come from her throat, a shudder running through her body as he continued to play with her. He placed one last appreciative nip to her breast and then continued his quest down, until he was feathering kisses around her kneecap, his thumbs brushing her inner thighs as he pushed her legs apart.

When he looks up at her, she has her eyes closed and her teeth sunk into her lower lip. There is the most appealing flush in her cheeks and chest, which make the freckles spattered across her skin stand out even more. There is no denying that Watson is an attractive woman, of that Sherlock has always voiced his opinion, but right now, in this moment, he doesn't think he's ever seen a more gorgeous creature. She squirms slightly in his grip, and Sherlock licks a stripe up her thigh, stopping just short of her wet center. Her eyes snap open and her chest is heaving in anticipation, but she's confused as to why he's stopped.

"Don't stop, Watson," he commands.

Joan's brow furrows in confusion; aren't those the words she's supposed to say to him? And then she realises that in her excitement and anticipation for his touch, her fingers had paused in their attempt to free herself from the handcuffs. She bites down on her lip once more, tossing her head back slightly to shake her hair out and goes back to trying to pick the cuffs with the paperclip that is growing difficult to hold onto with her clumsy fingers. Sherlock is mouthing at her thigh again, his tongue swirling circles along her inner thigh, ever closer to where she needs him, but never close enough to actually provide her with the sweet release she needs. She manages to open her eyes once more, and finds him looking up at her with a smirk in his eyes. Now more than ever she wants her hands freed so that she can grab him by his hair and control his movements. She tightens her grip on her paperclip and renews her attempts at picking the handcuffs with vigour. She desperately tries to ignore the mouth now directly over her mons and the fingers ghosting up her thigh, instead squeezing her eyes shut and mentally picturing the inside of the handcuff in her head.

It's no use though. 

She cries out when Sherlock's mouth suddenly closes over her clit, lashing the tiny bud with his tongue and bathing it with heat. Her spine bows, another loud moan coming from her as he hitches her thigh up onto his shoulder so that he can tease at her opening with his fingers. The feeling of the paperclip nearly slipping out of her fingers draws her back to the reason she's even in this position, and she grasps it firmer and desperately tries to pick the lock open. She feels her entire body shudder as Sherlock sucks at her clit and slowly pushes one finger inside of her. Another small cry escapes her, her hips arching into his touch, and Joan feels like she's being driven insane as he hums against her, the vibrations feeling like torture when she can't bring her hands around and pull at his hair.

"Sherlock," she whimpers, but he merely pushes another finger inside her to join the first, curling them slightly till they touched the spot that drove her insane. A scream escapes her, and Sherlock switches from sucking on her clit to light, fleeting licks that have her hips moving, searching for more contact. Joan feels near incoherent, dizzy from the pleasure of his mouth and fingers, and she strains against the handcuffs momentarily, forgetting that she couldn’t use them.

“Please, Sherlock,” she pants, screwing her eyes shut as he massaged that little spot with his fingers, coaxing it until it was nearly ready to burst.

“Come on, Joan,” is all he says, and she screws her eyes shut with a soundless cry as a third finger joins the other two inside her.

Sherlock stares up at her with blown pupils, taking in the light sheen of sweat gathered on her chest, her flushed face, her raw bottom lip. She was so gorgeous like this, lightly shaking, her hair wild around her face and shoulders. He wanted to make her come so badly, but not before she picked the handcuffs.

The jiggling of the paperclip started up again, and he smiled as she started up again, her movements fast and harried. He buried his mouth against her again, sucking hard on the little nub underneath his lips. He heard a broken moan come from her again, and moved his fingers a little quicker.

A second later he hears the tell-tale click, and he feels her hand bury itself in his hair, squeezing at the roots. His free hand grasps her hip, pulling her forward against his mouth as he pushes her for her orgasm. Joan whimpers, her spine arching as the thrusts of his fingers become more forceful. A moan with a bare semblance of his name escapes her lips, and he feels a rush of moisture around his fingers and against his mouth, and he knows she came. Warm metal still cuffed around one of her wrists brushes against his neck as she cards her fingers through his hair, panting softly. He pulls his fingers from her carefully, licking his lips as he sits up better to look at her. Joan smiles lazily at him, curling her body forward to kiss him softly, squeezing her eyes shut as small aftershocks of pleasure run through her.

“Well done, Watson,” Sherlock says with a smile. Joan hums in response, and raises clouded brown eyes up to his own. She smiles at him and he brushed sweaty strands of her hair off of her forehead with his clean hand.

“I think I could get used to the way you teach,” she murmured, and Sherlock smirked down at her.

“Yes, I do believe it has just become my preferred method of teaching,” he replied, “unfortunately for you, Watson, you may need some extra lessons in learning my methods.”

Joan chuckled slightly. “I think this may be the only time I actually enjoy being a student,” she told him with a wide grin.

“Luckily for you, I believe there is another lesson to be taught tonight. Come, Watson, to my bedroom!”

 

 


End file.
